


Solar

by KingOfDemons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Master of Death Harry Potter, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfDemons/pseuds/KingOfDemons
Summary: Two years after the final battle Hogwarts is open to students once more and Harry decides to quit his lackluster job at Auror academy and finish his schooling. But Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without a dangerous mystery and Harry soon finds himself drawn into a puzzle pointing to an obvious but impossible enemy.





	Solar

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas. J. K. Rowling owns all rights to the Harry Potter Saga and its characters and locations.

_**Solar** _

_**King of Demons** _

_**Chapter One - Owl Post** _

_**\--** _

It's the thunder that wakes him.

A low rolling rumble that cracks across the sky like an ominous drumbeat in the wake of the white-purple flash of lightning, too close to the sound of battle to sleep through. It leaves him breathless, his vivid green eyes flying open as he wakes, lurching up with a half-choked gasping scream clawing at his throat, a nightmare he can't remember causing his heart to beat hummingbird fast in his chest. It takes him a moment to find his bearings and realize there is no danger beyond a summer storm. Groaning he flops back down on the bed, ignoring the uncomfortable creaking matress and its broken springs. From the crack in the roof of his room in the leaky cauldron comes cold drops of rainwater, ice cold and steadily dripping onto his forehead, causing a painful migraine that throbs in a way the reminds Harry uncomfortably of the sting of Voldemort's presence. He doesn't move immediately, slowly blinking from grogginess and the rain that slides down the bridge of his nose and into his eyes, trying to recall his dream to no avail. He remembers green, bright and vicious as the killing curse, a deadly color. He remembers rain, a strong summer storm no doubt inspired by the rain in the waking world.

A bright flash of light fills his room, followed soon after by the loud roar of thunder, and the chill of the rainwater has increased the pain of his migraine to a point where staying still is no longer an option. Harry rolls over to the other side of the small squeaking bed, but the emptiness only serves as a harsh unavoidable reminder of his recent breakup. Giving up on his attempts to get back to sleep, Harry stretches to get rid of the sleepiness, then lays back down and stares at the ceiling aimlessly until his bladder starts to protest his lethargy. He swings his feet over the edge of the bed, wincing at the freezing cold of the wooden floorboards under his feet, and he heads to the bathroom.

The migraine doesn't lessen after a shower just on the edge of too hot, or after he's brewed an entire pot of coffee and poured the near scalding liquid directly from the pot down his throat. Harry rubs absently at his scar as he stares at the warped reflection on the side of the silver teapot. It's raw red, angry dark lines trailing down his forehead like the lightning in the sky. His skin is pale and washed out from the cold and dim light and he has a fleeting thought that he looks a bit like a porcelain doll someone smashed the forehead of and tried to glue together with dark red-pink glue. Rough and broken in a way that can never heal. His scar faded to a light shiny rose pink after he killed Voldemort, after he rid himself of the Horcrux, and it has not hurt or been so dark since. It should not cause for concern, Voldemort is dead and never coming back, but it doesn't stop the thought from creeping into his mind like poisoned honey.

Tearing his eyes away from his reflection, Harry abruptly opens the cabinet over the stove for a pain relieving potion. He drains it all in a single gulp, burning down his throat like a shot of fire whiskey, but within seconds the potion soothes the ache of his head to a dull throbbing. The sound of tapping on the window draws Harry's attention and he's grateful for the distraction, anything to keep his thoughts from spiraling down the rabbit's hole, anything to keep his focus off the end of his marriage. He lets the owl in, too white, too amber-eyed, too much like Hedwig for his heart to bear, but he feeds the snowy owl and offers to let it stay out the storm regardless.

The letter is familiar in a way that makes Harry's heart both leap for joy and clench in sadness all at once. Thick parchment, emerald writing, the Hogwarts crest in thick red wax on the back, Harry stares at the letter for several minutes before opening it. It's an invitation to return to school, to take a test to place himself in the proper educational level. Two months after the war and four days before the wedding, he'd sat in Grimmauld Place by the fireplace, drunk off fire whiskey, Ginny in his lap, his friends surrounding him, and they'd discussed if they would go back once Hogwarts was rebuilt. Hermione, Ginny, and Luna had all decided to go, while Ron and Harry decided against it. Now, Harry wonders if he shouldn't change his mind.

He  _loathes_ the Auror Academy with a passion previously reserved for the likes of Snape and Malfoy. His trainer is a horrible man with a personality that takes the worst of Snape and Umbridge, a bullying hateful man who believes that Harry didn't earn his place amongst the trainees because he got in on fame rather than merit. Auror Oakley takes every minute to remind him how worthless he is, never showing any appreciation for his successes while degrading him at every second on anything he perceives as a failure. He hates the man more than he hated Voldemort.

On the other hand, Ginny might still decide to attend Hogwarts rather than going to play for the Holyhead Harpies. Harry and Ginny never really had a chance to properly date before they got married. She proposed to him the day after the battle, riding high on adrenaline and sorrow, and he said yes for the same reason she had asked. They married on August first, the day after his eighteenth birthday. Ginny was his confidant, his most trusted and loved companion, right up until the fight. It wasn't like they'd never fought before, all couples fought, but that fight was the one where she told him she wished he had died instead of Fred, and he told her that he'd have preferred to die because being stranded in limbo with Voldemort would be better than spending another minute in the company of a stuck up bitch like her. He didn't mean what he said, and he's sure she hadn't meant it either, but four weeks later she served him the divorce papers on their second anniversary and moved in with Oliver Wood. The fight is still an open wound between them, not to mention her affair. He moved into the leaky cauldron that night, and he's only had four days to process their divorce so he hasn't moved back despite being pretty certain he won't run into her at Grimmauld Place.

Harry doesn't want to see Ginny, it is his biggest hesitation in regards to Hogwarts. However, his feelings for Ginny aside, Harry needs to get away from the Aurors. With his incomplete education, the Academy is his best option in life, it's the only reason he hasn't left already. Harry needs to go back to Hogwarts if he wants to change his life, even if it means spending a year or two in the presence of his soon to be ex-wife. Mind made up, Harry pens the acceptance letter out before he can change his mind and sets it aside to send with the owl as soon as the storm clears and sets about starting his day. He looks at the clock on the wall and decides not to go work. He'll send in his resignation when the storm clears up. In the meantime, he needs coffee.

 


End file.
